


a bit of a moral crisis

by saintsurvivor



Series: guinevere verse [2]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Eggsy, Aromantic Character, Aromantic Eggsy, Asexual Character, Asexual Eggsy, Eggsy as Guinevere, Eggsy has a bit of a moral crisis, F/F, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Eggsy, Humour, Lesbian Character, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Mentioned Drowning, Roxy Is a Good Bro, Roxy is a Little Shit, Swearing, Victoria Winslow is Arthur, Victoria is amazing as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsurvivor/pseuds/saintsurvivor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dreadful,” She says promptly. “My best friend just announced that he’s a serial killer, I think that puts the whole day in a bit of a downer, don’t you?”</p><p>or,<br/>in which eggsy has a bit of a moral crisis about kingsman</p>
            </blockquote>





	a bit of a moral crisis

# a bit of a moral crisis

 

“ _Oh god_ ,” Eggsy says one night.

He sits up in bed and stares across the room.

“ _I’m a serial killer_. My best friend is a serial killer,”

JB lifts his head from the pillow to the left of Eggsy, wheezing croakily. Eggsy stares at him, horrified.

“ _Oh god_ ,” Eggsy says, eyes wide. “We’re _all_ serial killers,”

\--

“Roxy, I’m a fuckin’ _serial killer_ ,” Is what he hisses to Roxy when he and Lancelot slide into the meeting room at HQ the next day, eyes ringed with bruises and lips chew bitten.

“’Hello, Roxy, how are you?’ ‘Oh I’m just fine, Eggsy, how are you today?’” Roxy mocks, glaring at Eggsy over the rim of her plain glasses. She tosses her pony tail over her shoulder, hip checking Eggsy into the wall slightly.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Eggsy says. “How are you, Rox?”

“Dreadful,” She says promptly. “My best friend just announced that he’s a serial killer, I think that puts the whole day in a bit of a downer, don’t you?”

“Yer the actual worst,” Eggsy tells her flatly. She flashes him a grin over her shoulder and saunters to the right of Arthurs chair, Eggsy following her steps on the other side. At her side, Julian sinks into his seat and shoots Eggsy a grin.

Eggsy has a sudden flash to when he and Percival had been cackling about that time that Eggsy had been forced to kill someone with a commerative Tower of London pen and feels faint.

 _I’m surrounded by serial killers_ , Eggsy thinks, horrified. _I’m a serial killer_. He looks at an unknowing Arthur in mute horror. _Victoria Winslow is the biggest serial killer ever_ , _oh god, I belong in **jail**_ **.**

Across from him, Roxy suddenly lets out a spurt of laughter, shoulders shaking in her suit as if she knows what Eggsy is thinking.

“Something the matter, Lancelot? Guinevere?” Arthur answers, voice prim with a steel undertone of warning.

“No, Arthur,” Eggsy says, strangled. “Nuthin’ at all, such a lovely day, innit? All the best to go around and kill shit loads of people, though a’course we don’t do that, it’s not like we’re serial killers or nuthin’, yeah?”

At that, Roxy loses it completely, blurting a hurried apology to Arthur, who looks utterly bewildered, before she _throws_ herself under the meeting table and _roars_ with laughter. Julian looks ready to follow her down as he catches on, looking at Eggsy before looking at the table, shoulders quivering suspiocusly.

Eggsy takes back every nice thing he has ever said about them.

Arthur turns her very terrifying gaze onto Eggsy, raising a very severe eyebrow and Eggsy kind of wants to melt into his seat and join Roxy under the table.

“ _Guinevere_?” Arthur says, very seriously.

Eggsy does the smart thing and ducks beneath the table as well.

\--

“Aodhán,” Eggsy says very seriously the next time he sees Merlin.

“Aye, lad?” He says, and they pretend that there is nothing a bit strange over the fact that Eggsy’s post-mission come down ritual is to go straight to Merlin, bringing nail polish, Chinese take-out and cheap as chips beer so they can curl up in the spacious area beneath Merlins’ desk.

“I’m a serial killer,” Eggsy says flatly, and punctuates his point with taking a swig of Cobra and making a face at the shit taste.

Merlin looks at him for a minute, before very calmly putting the sunflower yellow nail polish down so he can bury his face in his hands and _laugh_.

“Stop laughin’, arsehole!” Eggsy says, kicking Merlin in the stomach with his foot lightly before dumping it back into Merlin’s lap.

“Eggsy,” Merlin says. “Eggsy. _Eggsy,”_

“Ye keep repeatin’ my name, Aodhán, yer gonna wear it out,"

Merlin leans forward and cups Eggsy’s head in his hands.

“Yer not a serial killer,” Merlin says, brogue broad and hard to understand, softened as it is by the beer. Beer does strange things to Merlin, Eggsy has found out. “There is no way, ye kin ever be a serial killer,”

“Merlin,” Eggsy says very seriously. “We are all serial killers, _Kingsman_ is a serial killer organisation,”

Merlin pauses, tilting his head in a very endearing way. His face falls.

“Ah,” Merlin says. “Well, _shit_ ,” He then proceeds to snatch the half-finished bottle of Cobra from Eggsy and swigs the rest of it.

“Well shit,” Eggsy repeats, opening another solemnly.

\--

Victoria, of course, finds this all very amusing and tells Eggsy so.

“Yer the worst,” Eggsy wails into his pile of paperwork as she sits primly in front of his fireplace, JB in her lap. “Yer the _serial killer controller_ ,”

“I think, Gwennie,” Victoria says, her tone carefully calm. “That you’re thinking of the _mob_ ,”

“That’s even worse!” Eggsy wails. He goes back to trying to drown himself in his paperwork and Victoria looks on, amused.

Barkimedes, his Venus Fly Trap, sways happily.

\--

He goes to Harry for comfort.

Or, in better terms, he goes to Harry so he can take the piss outta the tosspot and not get knocked on his arse.

Well, that’s the plan anyway.

Instead, he ends up throwing himself onto Harry’s desk, messing up his paperwork.

“You should’a left me to rot in the police station,” He says, face down on the desk, voice muffled from copious amounts of paper. “That’s what yer said to me, innit, after I called ye Hazza,”

“Never call me that again,” Harry says immediately, his predictable response to whenever Eggsy brings up the Hazza situation. Harry hasn’t quite figured out that it just makes Eggsy call him Hazza even more.

“I’m a _serial killer_ , Hazza, I ain’t got no time for yer nonsense,” Eggsy cries, and he sprawls himself more comfortable on the desk. Harry sighs the sigh of the longsuffering and pushes him off the desk.

Dazed, Eggsy lies on the floor for a moment, looking up at the meticulously designed ceiling.

 _“Rude_ ,” Eggsy spits at him and then flounces out the door.

\--

“Have you given up this ridiculous nonsense that you’re a serial killer, yet?” Is what greets him when he phones Tilde.

Eggsy yanks the phone away from his ear, glaring at the device before putting it back to his face.

“Gimme yer girlfriend, Rox,” Is all he says.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Roxy huffs before passing the phone over to _Her Majesty Tilde_ , who is apparently in London to get her royal rocks off with her spy girlfriend. Eggsy still hasn’t forgiven them for crashing his movie night with Merlin and making them watch Terminator the other week.

“So I heard you think you’re a serial killer, Eggsy,” Tilde says to him.

“ _Yes_ ,” He says, falling backwards and trying not to smudge the scarlet polish of his drying toenails.

“You’re right,” Tilde says, and Eggsy lets out a crow of victory. _Take that Rox-_. “He’s completely bonkers, absolutely certifiable,”

“I hate yer both,” He tells Tilde and Roxy, because of course that’s who she’d agree with. “You’re the worst best friends a bruv could ask for, I’m calling Amelia,”

“She’s going to be just as unsympathetic,” Tilde says. Eggsy would hate her if he didn’t love her like a sister.

“See ya, Eggs,” Roxy calls through the phone before dial tone reaches his ears.

They’re both as bad as each other, Eggsy thinks dully, plucking at the pattern of his pale blue rockafella dress.

They deserve one another, traitors.

\--

Tilde is, of course, right.

Amelia is very unsympathetic, as she is wont to do.

“It’s kind of your job description, Guinevere,” She says, and she gets the biggest kick out of saying Guinevere instead of Eggsy. Eggsy decides he hates her as well.

“I shoulda left you to drown,” He tells her. She pushes her goggles up, fringe out the way.

“As I recall,” She says fondly, staring up at him with a blowtorch in her hand. “You did,”

“One time,” He says. “One time and yer never let me forget it,”

“Generally, one time is one time too many,”

“Hey, we’re serial killers,” Is all Eggsy says, shrugging.

Amelia sighs.

\--

“I’m movin’ to Mexico,” He says to Merlin over the comms.

“Of course, Guinevere,” Merlin says as if he’s not watching Eggsy completely decimate dozens of foreign operatives using nothing but a nail file and a model of the Kremlin.

“No, honest, Merl,” Eggsy insists, ducking beneath someones leg, shoving his Tokarev behind their balls and pulling the trigger. It’s very messy. Eggsy _loves_ it. “I’m quittin’ my job and I’m fuckin’ moving to Mexico,”

“I heard Mexico is very nice this time of year,” Merlin says drolly as Eggsy slips a knife from the small holster wrapped around his thigh, tossing it with careful aim so it pins some poor fools ear against the wall. Screaming and cursing ensues and Eggsy gleefully twists the knife on the way out before stabbing it into the poor bastards eye.

“You know, Guinevere,” Merlin says carefully, watching as an eyeball goes flying past on the CCTV he’s streaming from the warehouse. “Maybe this is why people are frightened of you whenever they go out in the field with them,”

A dismembered hand goes past, Eggsy’s manic cackle of laughter filling the room.

Merlin shivers.

“Please don’t move to Mexico,” Merlin says, mostly because he’d miss the fuck outta his lad and mostly because he doesn’t want to think of what Eggsy would do to the cartels that would think him easy prey and end up razed to the ground.

“I don’t think I will, Merls,” Eggsy shouts, ecstatic. “I’m havin’ too much fun here,”

Two minutes and  twenty four bodies later, Eggsy spins to a stop.

“Oh, those _pricks_!” He exclaims. “Fuckers got blood on my skirt, do yer know how hard it’s gonna be gettin’ that outta this?” He rubs at the spot in dismay, just near the hem.

“I liked this skirt an’ all,” He says mournfully.

\--

“Well, shit,” Eggsy says, leaning against Merlin’s side under his desk, Chinese in their laps and nail polish discarded. Eggsys skirt, still strew with blood, is hitched around his thighs so he can sit comfortably, heeled oxfords discarded at the side.  “Looks like I’m a goddamn serial killer,”

“Aye,” Merlin says, looking delighted as Eggsy pats his hand.

“No need to sound so joyful, Aodhán,”

\--

“Victoria,” Eggsy says, swanning into her office and pretending that Harry isn’t shooting him poisonous looks. “Yer the kindest mob boss ever,”

“Thank you very much, Guinevere,” She says primly, shooting a razor smile at him. “And you’re the best Second a mob boss could ever want,”

“Ta!” Eggsy says and then floats out again, high on the praise.

\--

It’s not a bad lark, really, Eggsy thinks, this professional serial killer business.

Not bad pay, either.

\--


End file.
